


Conflicted

by addicted_2_manga



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, He IS angst, Heavy Angst, I wanted to try my hand at angst, It IS Sakuya, character sketch, inner conflict, seriously so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 11:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15773601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_manga/pseuds/addicted_2_manga
Summary: Simple character sketch of Sakuya...





	Conflicted

It was a beautiful moonlit night. The air was crisp and sweetly perfumed with the scent of late spring. Nights like this, Sakuya liked to sit on the swing set at a local park and enjoy the silence. This particular night, however, was not one of the faux high schooler’s most peaceful. His shoulders ached, serving as a physical manifestation of the immense inner turmoil that had been plaguing him as of late. As he sat on a swing, tracing abstract shapes into the sand with the toe of his shoe, he thought of his master.   
Tsubaki was like a father to him; more so than the opportunistic monster that had actually fathered him. The melancholy fox had been the first to ever reach out a hand to him, the first to show real concern. Well, other than his sister, anyway. A tear trailed down his nose.  
“I miss you.” He murmured to the crisp breeze that ruffled his hair. Not even an eternity could erase the horror he’d witnessed, the guilt he secretly clung to, or the loss that permeated his heart. There was only one thing that all the time gone by had been able to alleviate for him.  
“I forgive you. Onee-chan.” The words came out as a shaky whimper. Sakuya didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his eyes. She had lied. Right to his face, but he could finally understand now, that she had thought it would protect him. A bitter laugh leapt from his throat at the idea.  
The memory of that day crashed, uninvited, into his mind. The day after his sister’s murder.

 

Sakuya’s stomach churned angrily as he sat forlornly on a swing. His eyes burned from all the tears he’d already shed, and in anticipation of the fresh ones that would come. A deafening, black cyclone raged in his head as he stared unblinking at the ground, the muscles of his face twitching.  
“It wasn’t your fault.” The words came at him from seemingly far away, through layers of interference.   
Sakuya lifted his head and attempted to focus through the stinging haze. A raven-haired man sat in the swing next to him. The simple black Yukata and white Haori he wore, both with eye-catching tsubaki accents, lent the stranger an elegant air. He offered a small smile and reached out to give Sakuya’s emerald hair a comforting stroke, before continuing to speak. The words didn’t quite register amidst the chaos of Sakuya's mind, but he did manage to catch something as the mysterious man got up and slowly walked away.  
“I’ll come pick you up.”

 

Of course, Sakuya hadn’t believed those words back then. He couldn’t have believed anything that day, or any of the days that followed, truthfully. The world was full of liars; and after that day, he’d become one too.  
“But he did. Onee-chan, he did come for me.” Sakuya gazed up at the stars, moonlight glistening off the wet trails of his face. “I can’t betray him. He deserves my loyalty.” Another breeze blew softly past him, caressing his cheek. Loyalty had always come easily to the green-haired subclass. He was indeed grateful to his maker, for showing him that it was safe to place his trust in someone else after all. But then someone else had found him as well. Another hand had reached out to him one day, and it had turned his world upside down yet again. A sigh dropped heavily from Sakuya’s lips as he began to swing listlessly, as if the movement would help order his thoughts.  
“I love him though. Mahiru.” The admission crept from his mouth, small and fragile, much like the smile that flashed across his face. “He could be my sun… if only…” Sakuya dug his heel into the ground, stopping the swing, as he brought both hands up against his forehead and tugged at his hair in frustration. 

“Onee-chan?” He asked the night air in a desperate whisper. “What do I do?”


End file.
